


keep 'em folded in your lap

by munchmulch



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's relationship with gender, Gen, Ineffable Spouses, Multi, Other, Pronouns, Pronouns flipping like flap jacks, Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/munchmulch/pseuds/munchmulch
Summary: There wasn't really a concept of gender, in the beginning.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	keep 'em folded in your lap

There wasn't really a concept of gender in the beginning. Oh sure, humans have always come with different bits, innies, outties, and occasionally something in between. But the concept of _gender_ and what it means, the expectations and roles of it, is something they came up with themselves. 

Crowley finds it hilarious at first, throwing themself into a flamboyant mixed up presentation of it. Something they continue to do and have fun with over the ages even after quietly admitting to Aziraphale that they think the humans have taken it a bit too far. 

For Aziraphale, watching it develop is oddly disquieting. But that discomfort, like many things that make them nervous, is something they prefer to avoid thinking about. Aziraphale likes their corporation, portly, middle-aged, and well worn into something exceedingly comforting. So when pronouns split themself into a binary he quietly accepts the ones assigned to him, and tries not to dwell on the prescriptions of his identity and self that they come with. 

Queerness, the subtle option of its presentation, helps. For Aziraphale it is subtle, presenting a gay man but not flambointly enough to attract more then passive ire. It quiets something in him, something rolling and uncomfortable, leaving signs of himself to be picked up or discarded. 

And Crowley, Crowley who has always seen the most of him, who notices Aziraphale's occasional stumble into genuine discomfort when confronted directly by the choice to present as male, Crowley asks sometimes. _'Is this what you want? It's getting better, more humans are starting to play with gender, they/them and neopronouns are starting to be accepted in queer communities, do you want that?'_

And the thing is, the thing is, maybe. But one thing Aziraphale is very good at is fear, compressing himself into something palatable, something smaller. The thought of asking that from someone, difficult and unwieldy and uncomfortable, insights that endless rolling anxiety to rise up from his stomach and into his throat. 

And Crowley accepts that, never pushes, just occasionally asks, voice soft. Eventually asks the right question, if Aziraphale would like they/them at home, just them together and away from the world. If Aziraphale would like Crowley to use it, no correcting other people, just Crowley who already uses they/them as a default. And Aziraphale sinks into that gratefully, the small break, comfort in the company of the only being they truly trust. 

And then, just as quietly, casually, Crowley starts bringing Aziraphale along to queer spaces. Book clubs and events outside of bars, mostly away from crowds. 

Aziraphale has been a part of the queer community his own right for a long time now, has known many binary trans people and a scattering of non-binary ones. There's something different about this though, about these spaces within this time, with Crowley at his side. Not a complete lack of fear, but a bit less pressure on his chest, a bit more ease to his breath. 

And eventually, in groups which go around and introduce themselves, name pronouns and a fun fact, Aziraphale makes a subtle transition. Changes their introduction just a bit, he/him easing into he/him and they/them. And as quiet a step as that is, as much as even that leaves them choking with a shameful sort of fear, it's a step. A step that slowly, with familiarity, brings its own joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me over at [munchmulch](https://munchmulch.tumblr.com/)


End file.
